Ocean of Grief
by RebelWriter6561
Summary: Veser tries to cope after his parent's death. Conrad tries to cope with handling Veser. Conrad/Veser Bromance fic.
1. Chapter 1

~*~ Oh literary gods, please forgive my crappy titling and overused metaphors, and in return I will sacrifice the Twilight Saga in a fiery blaze.  
So, yeah, crappy title and ridiculous amounts of Veser-angsting aside, I really like how this came out. This is my idea of what will happen when the team gets the pelt back. It's very vague for a reason, and it'll all be made clear later. The first part is Veser's POV, and the second part will be Conrad's.  
No lie, when I'm not torturing Veser, I seriously love this character. If he went to my school I would stalk him.  
Musical Muse: The Poet and the Pendulum by Nightwish  
Warning: A swear word or two.  
Disclaimer: Oh god I wish I owned Hanna is Not a Boy's Name. But alas, they belong to the amazing and accredited ~Tessa Stone~

~*~Ocean of Grief Chapter 1~*~  
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Veser stared out at the grey water. Grey like the sky, grey like the sand he crouched on, grey like the sodden pelt he clutched in his hands. It was like the universe was backing away from him, inching away from the bomb in his chest. The bomb that had started ticking when Lee disappeared, had strengthened when he found Lee's body and ghost in the theater, and had become deafening when he had finally seen the bodies of his parents, lying side by side in the morgue. Now he sat on the beach, the roaring in his ears coming from inside his chest and from the ocean next to him.

They didn't deserve to be like that, a tiny thought in his mind said. His father didn't deserve to be on a cold slab next to his mother. He should be chopped into little bits rotting away in the ground. And she deserved to be set adrift on the ocean, her pelt returned to her, as tradition warranted.

The thought was gone, drowned out by the roaring loud ticking in his chest. The ticking reminded him of Ples, who had tried so hard to help the little group looking for the pelt. Ples had been there in the morgue with him, had called after him when he ran out with the pelt.

He was probably worried. He seemed like one of those nervous adults that always seemed nervous at all times. Probably organizing a search party out of the pitiful group that had gravitated around Hanna. Veser didn't care. Couldn't care.

As the ticking grew in strength and volume, it flowed into the ocean in his chest, becoming part of the constant roar in his mind. The ocean turned his chest colder and colder. It froze his breath, froze his voice, froze his tears. And now, out in the rain and elements, it froze his skin.

Maybe he would become a frozen lump here on the beach. Then the tide would come in and carry him out. Would the selkies accept a half-breed? No; his father's people didn't accept him; why should his mother's? Who wanted a freak with razor teeth and poison green eyes?

A seagull landed next to him and regarded him with its beady eyes. Did it wonder if he was edible? 'I'm too frozen to eat' Veser wanted to say, but his voice had frozen back in the morgue, and he couldn't say anything.

The gull left, and the almost-frozen ocean inside him told him the tide was receding. Lee left, his parents left, the gull had left, and now the ocean was leaving. All he had left was the frozen block in his chest.

He heard the gull cry over his head; heard one answer back. What were they saying? Did they gossip like the ladies at the supermarket, remarking about the sullen boy with unnatural eyes? Or did they talk about fish?

The seagull called again, but the other didn't answer. Was it asking where everyone had gone? Why it was now all alone?

The gull squawked next to him, suddenly turned into a voice repeating "Veser? Veser!" in his ear as hands pulled at his shoulders. Hands that were as cold as his own. A face moved in front of his, but he couldn't focus on it. He stared through it, at the ocean.

"Veser!" the voice was sharp and demanding. His father's voice turned that way when he was angry at him. He was always angry at him.

The hands grabbed his face, and he could finally focus on the face in front of him. Pale, sharp with worry. The seagull squawked in his face, hard and unforgiving. It wavered in front of his eyes, sliding out of focus as his eyes turned to the obstructed ocean. He knew it was there. It was always there. No matter how far inland he went, he could always feel the ocean, pulling and pushing the breath from his lungs.

The gull was shrieking to him again, but he couldn't hear over the roar of the ocean inside his head. It filled his head whenever his father hit him, pulled him into the depths of darkness with every strike. Sometimes he had wanted to sink into the cold black of his mind. But it had never happened.

If he remained frozen on the beach, would he eventually drown there?

Suddenly he was aware of his feet under him. The tingling in his legs reminded him of the first time he had been stung by a jellyfish, the first time his father had slapped him. The gull was pushing, pulling, pleading "For fuck's sake Veser walk would ya its freezing out here" barely heard over the ocean. But he was adrift in his mind, and shore was too far off.

A warm breath of air on his face, most of the wetness was gone. The physical ocean moving away, the one in his chest pulling him away from his surroundings. He heard the seagull cry, telling another gull about the frozen bit of flesh he had pulled from the beach. The ocean in him momentarily overwhelmed him and then he was aware of the waves pushing him to the surface, pulling him from the cold black and up to the warm shallows. The thieving gull tried to pull his mother's pelt from him, and he tried to hold on to it. But his hands were too frozen. His fingers lost their grip, and suddenly his own pelt was being stripped from him.

He wanted to struggle, feeling naked and helpless as layers of himself were removed. Had his mother felt like this the whole time she had been on land? It was horrible, like a part of him was removed from his whole self, and the ocean in him roared to be released. The gull cried continuously in the background "Stop being such a zombie move blink something"

A riptide suddenly overtook him, water splashing all around him. Warm, not-salty water flowed from above. The hot water landed on his skin, turning it red as a herring, but did not penetrate the frozen ocean in him. His chest tightened, the water moving to his lungs, constricting them, making it hard to breathe. Was he drowning at last?

He was finally pulled from the hot torrent, yanked onto the coarseness of the sand. His unprotected skin rubbed raw, uncomfortable feelings all around him. The seagull's voice right in his ear, changing from sharp cries to soft coos "Come on Ves come back warm up please" His mind struggled to get away from the hurt, go back into the cool waters inside him. Slowly he slipped down, further and further away from light and warmth and everything.

The surface world held nothing for him. He had always longed for the ocean, always felt its pull. Down, down, down; deep into the cool black. The gull's final cry echoed in his ears. "Come back Veser come back."

"Come back."

Come back?

Why should he go back? Nothing up there was for him. No one there wanted him. He sank deeper into his mind's ocean. So calm, so cool. So quiet. He could stay there forever.

A shaft of weak surface light penetrated the depths above him. Warm laughter, a bright blur bobbing like a fish in front of him. Voices, heated, grudging amused anger not directed at him, or spoken in a way to remove the sting. A ticking, not from the bomb adrift in open sea, but from a gentle machine warm from hands. Bright sparks that picked and poked at him, asking encouraging him to play.

It hurt up there. Things were sporadic erratic ever changing. The ocean was calm constant comforting.

"Come back."

The ocean didn't bother him, didn't drag him from his comfort and into more crazy situations. It didn't chastise him about shoes on the couch, about pop cans left on the floor, didn't growl at him he should be old enough not to be so stupid, didn't tease him about eating so much sushi.

He should just stay in the deep dark depths. He didn't want to- "Come back"

The light hurt his eyes, made him gasp. Water in his lungs, and suddenly the ocean turned against him, ripping at his chest, burning his throat. He struggled, gasping, choking, fighting toward the light, away from the crushing blackness. And then he was back on the shore of his mind, coughing up seawater that stung his eyes, made him scream. He could feel the warmth, the scratchiness of the sand, the harshness of the world away from the ocean.

The seagull was there again, calling his name, and suddenly it was Conrad, asking "are you alright breathe you little idiot you need to breathe" his hand on his back as he knelt next to him. He was in Conrad's apartment, covered in blankets, the ocean draining from his chest with every cough, with every shudder. It flowed unchecked from his eyes, and he couldn't get enough air in his lungs.

"Breathe breathe just breathe." Conrad kept repeating, his cold had rubbing circles on his back. "Breathe."

His mind, free from the ocean in his head, wanted to laugh about a vampire telling him to breathe, but he couldn't speak through the sharpness lodged in his chest. He could only manage short, sharp sounds that hurt like knives as he tensed and shuddered. His head hurt, his throat hurt, his eyes hurt, his chest his lungs his heart hurt. Everything hurt.

But he couldn't go back to the ocean, not back to that cold clammy nothingness. He remained marooned on the beach of his life and mind; on the floor of Conrad's living room, crying his ocean out while Conrad waited for him to come back to himself.

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	2. Chapter 2

~*~ Yay Connie's POV! His point of view explains what Veser actually went through.  
Musical Muse: Nightwish songs.  
Warnings: More swearing (Conrad's got a mouth), and some implied ConWorth cause it's the bomb.  
Disclaimer: Not Tessa, therefore I don't own HiNaBN.

~*~Ocean of Grief Chapter 2~*~  
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Fuck. Them. All.

It was all their fault. It was Hanna's fault for dragging that stinking kid into their lives, Ples' fault for calling to say he had run off, Toni's fault for suggesting they look for him after he'd been gone for twelve hours.

All. Their. Fault.

Conrad growled to himself as he leaned forward in his seat, trying to see through the condensation on his windshield. It was raining outside and too hot and muggy in here. And he hated driving in this weather, hated that he had to spend his time _this close to sunrise_ looking for a runaway half-breed.

Hanna had told him to check the east end of town, but he couldn't see anything though his windows, and there was no way he was getting out of his car in this weather. Besides, the little punk was probably hiding somewhere. If he was, there would be no way to see him anyway.

Conrad sighed as he turned on his blinker and drove down the off-ramp that led to the ocean. It was worth a shot. Ples had said he had run off with the pelt, so there was a good chance he was on this dirty dingy excuse for a beach.

Of course, being the middle of fall early in the rainy morning, there were no cars. Conrad parked, grabbed his umbrella, and set off toward the dunes.

'This is so stupid. That stupid little bastard is fucking up everyone's day, just so he could get attention.' Conrad thought cryptically to himself. Oh yeah, sure, he sympathized with the kid. He knew what it was like to live in a home where you were either criticized or ignored. But that didn't give the kid the go-ahead to mess everyone else up.

Conrad topped the final dune and looked toward the beach. He received a blast of salty spray for his efforts, but one he had wiped off his glasses enough to see, he saw that, yep, there was a little hunk of emo sitting on the beach.

"Veser you little piece of shit!" he called out to the boy. There was no reaction. 'He better not have heard me, cause if he's ignoring me there's gonna be hell to pay' he thought savagely as he stumbled down the dune. He was honest-to-god sick of this kid. Ples could babysit him from now on if he liked him so much.

"Veser?" he barked as he got closer. The boy didn't turn, still sitting hunched over the sodden fur of his mother. "Veser!" he tramped to a halt in front of the boy and kneeled in front of him angrily. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders and gave him one good shake. He stuck his face in front of Veser's, then froze.

What was that look in his eyes? The bright green orbs, normally filled with mischief or anger, were dimmed, like the lights behind them had gone out. There was nothing, literally nothing. Conrad had never seen such dead eyes, not in his grandmother's right before she died, or in the eyes of those caught in mainstream modern society. They were empty, soulless, and looked right through him, reflecting the ocean behind Conrad.

"Veser!" he yelled this directly into the boy's face while grabbing at it with his hands. God it was cold. His skin was just as cold as his.

Finally, finally, those terrifying eyes focused on his face, but he saw no recognition there. It was chilling, how empty those eyes were. The zombie that followed Hanna had more expressive eyes. However, he didn't let the lack of emotion sway him. "Veser stop fooling around! What's wrong with you?" he demanded. "Don't you know everyone's out looking for you, and it's almost daytime! You're gonna be in deep shit when we get back to the apartment, let me tell you."

He kept ranting and raving, hoping to get a response from the chilly boy. He couldn't deny he was worried when, instead of rising to the bait like he usually did, Veser's eyes lost their focus on his face, and drifted back to the ocean behind Conrad. It was like he was staring right through him, and it was really starting to creep him out.

"Come on Ves! It's raining and I've got to get inside and you're gonna catch a cold…" Conrad kept up the constant haranguing as he tried to pull Veser to his feet while keeping the umbrella over his head. But the half-selkie was dead weight, and the wind was blowing so much water at him as it was, so finally Conrad ditched the umbrella altogether and hauled the boy to his feet. Looping one arm around his neck, Conrad pulled/dragged the boy from the beach.

The trip back up the dune was significantly worse than it was going down. The wind had changed direction, and was now blowing right in his face. Plus Veser was doing nothing to help. If anything, as his feet dragged in the sand, he was impeding his progress. "For fuck's sake, Veser," Conrad snarled, "walk would ya? It's freezing out here!"

There was no response, no sign that he was even heard. The ocean behind them, however, seemed to be growing fiercer. The vampire chanced a glance behind him, and saw the waves rolling far up the beach, seeming to reach for the pair. Trying to bring the seal boy back. Conrad gulped, and shouldered his way over the crest of the dune and into the parking lot. He opened his passenger side door and practically shoved Veser in.

Getting in to his own seat, Conrad buckled up, turned the heater up as high as it would go, shifted into drive, and was out of the lot in practically the same (unneeded) breath. Only then could he relax, and return his focus to the head-case in the seat next to him.

Veser hadn't moved since he had been shoved into the seat, and looked exactly the same that he had on the beach: sodden, dripping, and looking like there was nothing inside him. Scary. One hand on the wheel, Conrad pulled his iPhone from its holder and pressed 'Redial', which connected him to Ples.

"Ples? Yeah, it's me. I found Veser. Yeah, he was on the beach. Umm…"- Conrad sent a sideways glance at the motionless boy- "Honestly I don't think he's doing so good. I'll tell you later, right now I just want him dried off, he looks like a drowned rat. Can you call the others and tell them to call off the search? Thanks. Yeah I'll keep you posted. Bye." He ended the call and returned his overpriced piece of unneeded technology to its shrine, then accelerated a little more. A thought had occurred to him as he had spoken to Ples. Maybe if he got Veser in a familiar place, warm and dried off, he would snap out of his funk. That in mind, he drove to his apartment as quickly as the rain and laws allowed.

After parking in the complex's garage and pulling the boy into his apartment (desperately hoping none of his neighbors would look out and see a grown man pulling an apparent minor though the halls), Conrad was faced with a greater challenge. Veser stood in his entryway, dripping mournfully and still clutching the pelt. Conrad could practically feel the cold pouring off him in waves. The kid was going to get sick if he stayed like this. Conrad grudgingly pushed him into the bathroom, wincing at every drip that landed on his wood floors.

After pulling down lots of towels, starting the shower and ensuring that it was an appropriate heat, Conrad finally stopped stalling and turned to the chore of –gulp- undressing the sodden boy. The first thing that had to go was the pelt they had spent so much time and effort on. Reaching out, Conrad pried Veser's stiff fingers from the surprisingly soft fur. He thought there might have been a reaction in the boy's eyes, but it was gone too quickly to tell. He gently folded it and placed it on the counter. Now came the hard part.

"Alright, um, just…crap" Conrad momentarily blanked at the thought of pulling the clothes off his roommate. Imagining Worth in his head telling him to grow a pair, he bit his lip and reached for the zipper of the hoodie.

"Come on Veser. This is really embarrassing. I'm stripping you, the least you can do is give me some encouragement!" Conrad tried joking to the silent boy as he removed the sweatshirt. "Stop being such a zombie. Move, blink, or something." Conrad still joked as he stripped the boy of his sopping t-shirt, and finally (oh god how embarrassing) pants. Leaving him in his boxer-briefs, he pushed the cold clammy body into the flow of hot water from the shower.

He propped Veser up against the side of the shower so he wouldn't fall (oh the irony of drowning in the shower, especially now). Conrad gathered up the wet clothes and threw them all in the washing machine. They would get cleaned after Veser was out of the shower. After returning to the bathroom and making sure Veser was still upright, he carefully gathered the pelt and placed it on the dresser of his guest room, which had kinda become Veser's room.

Finally, after giving Veser enough time to thaw out, he returned to the bathroom with some sweatpants and a shirt. "Veser?" he asked. Hearing no response, he glanced in the shower, and groaned to see that Veser still hadn't moved, although his skin was certainly a lot redder. Conrad turned off the shower and grabbed the biggest towel in his arsenal. "Alright Veser, you asked for it." he warned the boy before spreading the towel and engulfing the sodden boy in its embrace. Pulling him from the shower, he roughly rubbed the thick cloth over the still body.

"You're just being a big pain in the butt today aren't you?" he barked into the ear next to his face. Veser seemed to have lost the ability to stand on his own, and was now slumped entirely on Conrad. The look in his eye was impossibly more distant. It had faded since they had left the beach, and now they really looked like corpse's eyes. Conrad gently touched the boy's face, shuddering at how cold it still was. "Come on Ves." he said softly. "Come back. Warm up. Please?" he gently pleaded the quiet shell. Conrad stilled his drying motion, and wrapped the towel around Veser's body. Groping carefully, 'oh god don't look be careful', he removed the final piece of Veser's clothing and let them drop to the floor.

He practically had to manhandle the boy, but finally he got the sweatpants and old t-shirt on Veser. Running a final towel through the goofy-colored hair, Conrad looked over the boy. He looked warm, dry, and presentable, but the way he was still slumped against him and the way his lids were drooping over the empty eyes was troubling.

He dragged the almost-corpse into his living room and laid Veser gently down on the couch. That was where the kid usually spent his time in Conrad's apartment. Half the time he slept right there instead of in the guest bed. Conrad never said anything, but he had a bad feeling that it was because it was closer to the exit, in case the boy had to run for it. Veser's eyes were now fully closed. His skin remained clammy, and now it didn't seem like he was breathing very deeply, or at all.

Conrad scrambled through all the rooms, pulling out every spare blanket he had and piling them on top and around Veser. Finally out of ideas to warm him up- aside from shoving him in the oven- Conrad just stood over the form on the couch and just watched. There really was nothing left of the wild child who had made it his personal mission to shake up Conrad's life. The brat who had stolen his computer to look at porn, the one who laughed at him every morning for putting blood in his coffee, the one who loved to get a rise out of him by insinuating about his not-a-relationship with Worth; he was lying there like a hunk of driftwood. Even his heart was starting to slow, and not in the good, sleeping rate way. More of a dead, hollow way.

But Conrad didn't know what else to do. He wasn't a doctor; he had done everything in his power to give the boy a chance to make it through this. If he didn't, then it was purely his choice. Even so, Conrad couldn't resist leaning down one last time to whisper "Come back, Veser. Come back." in his ear before leaving the room to _finally_ change out of his partially-dried clothes.

Conrad could feel the sun begin to rise, and every vampiric bone in his body told him to go to sleep. But Conrad had spent enough time going against his nature that he hardly listened anymore. Instead, he logged on to his e-mail, puttered around for a bit online, then just sat in bed doodling. He was _not_ straining his ears to hear if Veser moved at all. In fact, he was putting so much effort into _not _paying attention that he hardly noticed what he was doodling. When he did, he frantically erased the embarrassing sketches, _definitely not_ noticing their resemblance to a certain doctor.

Finally, there was no more hope for it: he was tired. He put his sketch pad aside, took off his glasses, and crawled under the covers.

Looking back, he realized that Veser, even unconsciously, knew exactly what it took to tick him off. Because the second he was comfortable was the second Veser started screaming.

Conrad was out of his bed with glasses half on his face in one of Veser's now-madly pumping heartbeats. The kid was thrashing violently on the couch, screaming and hacking as he struggled to breathe. Conrad jumped to his side and shoved the heavy blankets off, pushing him up into a sitting position to help him breathe. "Are you alright?" he asked/demanded the boy. He noted with a terrible fascination that Veser was crying, huge tears that flowed with the gasps that turned into sobs. He was sobbing and coughing so hard he could barely get air into his lungs.

"Veser, come on. Breathe, you little idiot. You need to breathe!" Conrad reminded him as he put his hand on the boy's back. Was it there to encourage the boy to respond, or was it there to comfort? Conrad honestly wasn't sure.

Veser did finally seem to respond to the suggestion, taking short lungfuls of air that came out as harsh sobs. Conrad was pretty sure that this wasn't the right way to combat hyperventilating, but he still found himself whispering "Breathe, breathe, just breathe." He repeated that, over and over, as slowly Veser calmed down. His breathing began to even out, finally falling into rhythm with Conrad's words. Veser slumped against him, but not like he had earlier in the bathroom. Now it felt like he just wanted someone there to lean on. And Conrad was just the thing to provide that.

There'll be more chapters to follow. Please leave reviews


	3. Chapter 3

~*~ Well, I was going to wait to post this, but Fluffy52's reviews changed my mind. Seriously, they brightened my whole day. So here's chapter 3. Chapter 4 isn't written yet, but it will be. Soon. Once school stops cracking its whip.  
This part, and all the chapters following, will be about Veser's recovery. Being sick sucks, but it sucks less when someone's taking care of you. Especially big brothers. True Fact. My brother once brought home a _pail_ of cookies for me when I was sick. It was awesome.  
Musical Muse: None. On an unrelated note it's very hard to write for Worth while listening to Britney Spears.  
Warnings: Swear words, because Veser's sick, Connie's mad, and Worth is Worth. Also there's more implied ConWorth because if that was candy I would eat so much I'd lose all my teeth.  
Disclaimer: My polyjuice potion isn't working, so I'm still not Tessa Stone.

~*~Ocean of Grief Chapter 3~*~

Veser woke up the next day feeling like he was coming to after being knocked out while surfing. Not that he had any experience in that, of course. But if he had, he would imaging this feeling of aching all over, combined with the feeling that he had gritty salty sand in his eyes, would feel pretty damn close to that.

But the frozen feeling on his cheek probably wasn't usually associated with surfing accidents.

Veser pried his eyes open, surprised to find the light in the room was dim. Looking over to his side, he saw that his right cheek was resting on Conrad's bare forearm. That would explain the cold. But how had he ended up using his sorta-roommate's limb as a pillow?

Like a tidal wave, memories from the night before came flooding back. He closed his eyes as he remembered. In the morgue with Tibenoch, the mad dash through the streets with his mom's pelt, sitting on the beach for hours… that's about when his thoughts got fuzzy again, and the next thing he remembered was hacking his lungs out in Conrad's living room. The time in between…he didn't remember. And was pretty sure he didn't want to.

But after his coughing fit… he remembered, even with his breath back, that it still felt like a dead weight had settled on his lungs. And he had still been crying.

Veser grit his teeth. He was disgusted with himself. He was a guy. Guys don't cry like that, and for so long. Yeah, he had shed a few initial tears for Lee, but he got over that fast. But he must have still been crying when he finally fell asleep. That would explain why his eyes were so gunked up.

And Conrad had apparently spent the night- day- with him afterwards. He was sleeping in an upright position, with his arm on the couch under Veser's cheek. As slowly and carefully as he could, Veser tried to move his head away from his cold pillow. But the movement dislodged something in his chest, and he began to cough again. Loud, harsh, hacking coughs that could wake the dead.

And they did. Conrad jerked awake with a startled snort, blinking at the dim light of the room. Looking over at Veser, who had sat up and was coughing hard into his hand, he pulled himself up using the couch and asked, in a voice muddled by sleep, "How ya doin?"

Veser could hardly answer over the harsh hacks. But the look he sent Conrad must have conveyed his feelings appropriately, because the vampire once again put his cold hand on Veser's back to support him.

Once he regained his breath, Veser realized that those precious moments of strength and lucidity were gone. He collapsed back onto the couch cushions, realizing that he felt like absolute shit. He had never felt this bad in his life, _ever_. His chest, throat, and head hurt, dull throbbing pains and sharp stabbing pains.

Conrad let Veser fall back, and then placed his hand on the sick boy's forehead. Even with his dead-cold skin, he could tell that Veser had a fever. And a pretty bad one too.

Looking down, he saw that Veser's lantern eyes were staring at him. They weren't the dead eyes that had looked through him earlier. These eyes had life in them, even if they were clouded by sickness.

Seeing Veser shiver from the contact, the vampire removed his hand and pulled the blankets that surrounded the half-selkie closer to him. Standing up, he smiled down at his bedridden companion. "You just relax Veser." he told the recumbent boy "We'll get you fixed up."

Veser watched unhappily as Conrad walked out of the room. Shit. Fuck his life. Here he was sick, being babied by the gayest vampire this side of an Anne Rice novel, and his parent's murderer was still running around somewhere. Great. He rolled over onto his side and sighed. Fine. Let Connie have his moments of fagginess, as Worth liked to call them. If the vampire wanted to play nurse, more power to him. And honestly, Veser realized quickly, he was too sick to even care anymore. He shivered again and huddled under the blankets. What the hell was Connie going to do with him now?

Conrad chewed his lip as he wandered into his room. What the hell was he doing? He didn't know the first thing about taking care of sick selkies. Fuck, he didn't know how to take care of anyone, period! But it was too late to go back now. He was stuck with a sick kid and had no clue what to do.

Well, ok, he did have a clue. He would do what his mother had done whenever he had come down with the slightest hint of sickness: consult the family physician. Unfortunately, the only option that was presented to him was utterly and totally unappealing; possibly the furthest perversion of a family doctor imaginable: Worth.

Conrad groaned into his hand. The man was disgusting. Apathy personified. A walking talking zit on the face of society. An insufferable asshole who apparently decided that Conrad was his new favorite target for his tormentation. Which Hanna and everyone else seemed to interpret as affection, for some sick perverted reason. And, inexorably, he was probably the only person in the city who would know how to treat a sick half-seal boy.

Conrad gingerly picked up his iPhone. The reminder that he had Worth's "office" number stored under Contacts was enough to make him question his sanity. But he found the number, and, gritting his teeth so hard it hurt, he pressed "Talk".

While the phone rang in his hand, Conrad glanced out the window, realizing it was barely past sundown. Worth probably wasn't even awake yet. Conrad grinned evilly. Served that bastard right if he got dragged out of bed to answer the phone. _If _he answered the phone, Conrad thought restlessly as the phone continued to reach Worth's office. Did that scab of a man have an answering machine?

Finally, just when Conrad was about to hang up, he heard the click as the other end picked up, then an incredibly pissed and gravely "Wha'da fuck doya want?" sounded in his ear. Conrad's grin grew.

"Wow Worth. Do you answer the phone like that for everyone, or is it just me?" Conrad asked gleefully. It was so nice to get an upper hand on the hack doctor. It happened so rarely.

There was a pause from the other end, then a slew of swear words, indiscernible from one another, was forced across the line aimed at the reluctant vampire. Conrad could not help but laugh at the doctor's obvious misery. Served him right.

"Faggie ya better ave a goddamn good reason for callin this early or I swear ta god…" Worth finally got to the end of his rant, but followed up his statement with a few more mumbled curses. Conrad sighed and got right to the point of his call.

"How do you cure a half-selkie with a cold?" he asked. There was a sudden silence from the other end. Conrad wondered if he had actually managed to shock the hack into silence, or if he had simply hung up. "…Worth…?" Conrad asked.

"Shud up. I'm thinkin." Worth snarled. Conrad arched an eyebrow in shock. Worth, actually thinking, actually being a halfway decent doctor? Was the world going to end?

"Awlrigh." Conrad snapped out of his musings of the upcoming apocalypse to listen to the doc. "I'm assumin this is Sharkboy we're talkin bout?" After getting the vampire's agreement, he asked, "What're his symptoms?"

"Umm…" Conrad was stunned that Worth actually seemed to be taking this seriously. "Well, he's got a pretty bad fever, I think." There was a snort from the other end. Conrad chose to ignore the possible reasons behind that snort, and continued. "He's coughing a lot, and-"

"Chest or throat?" Worth interrupted. "Huh?" Conrad asked. "Chest or throat. Are the coughs comin from the chest or throat?"

"Oh." Conrad actually had to stop and think about that one. "Chest, I think." Another snort from the asshole on the other end prompted him to change his answer to "I'm pretty sure."

"Can ya hear water in the lungs? Kinda like a-" Worth actually seemed flailing to come up with a way to express his question over the phone- "-a kinda fluid-y sound? Wet-ish soundin?"

"Oh, yeah. Something like that." Conrad answered. He had noticed that while the boy had been sleeping, and now realized that it probably wasn't a good thing.

Worth made a scarily doctor-sounding "Hmm" into the phone and was silent. Conrad was sure he could hear the disgusting man rifling around in his equally disgusting office. That fact that Worth was actually being a serious doctor still wasn't sitting well with him. Maybe it was too early in the evening for Worth to have accumulated his usual bad attitude. Maybe he was actually worried about Veser. Maybe he got laid.

"Awlright!" Worth's scratchy voice jerked Conrad from the disgusting idea of Worth and sex (disgust, not jealousy, definitely not jealousy). "I've got some shit here that'll fix him up, but it'll take a while for him to get better. You're gonna hafta take care of him, right?"

"Umm…yeah, right, I guess." Conrad stuttered out. This situation was so fucked up he could hardly answer otherwise. And he already knew there was going to be some sort of Veser maintenance involved anyway.

"Fine. Then git yer ass down to my office and get the shit." Then with a sharp –click! -Worth hung up on him. Conrad stared at the phone a moment in surprised shock, then disconnected.

"Ok, great." He muttered to himself. Throwing his phone carefully onto his bed, he then searched through his closet for something decent to wear (but not look like he was trying too hard, just enough to set an example about how decent people were supposed to dress, not to look nice for that nasty man). After going through several outfits, he decided on a simple black button-up. He now had first-hand experience as to why vampires always wore dark clothes. Blood showed up less on them.

Snatching up his phone and his wallet, he finally left his room to find that Veser had completely vanished underneath the blankets on his couch. Conrad had to smile at the sight. The kid sure acted tough, but as soon as he caught a cold he was nothing but a big baby. Walking over to the couch Conrad started prodding the blankets looking for Veser. "Ves, stick your head out here. I need to talk to you."

Veser felt that the only acceptable way to answer Conrad was with a slew of grumbled moans. He felt like even worse shit than he had when he woke up. He nose was clogged, he could barely breathe without hacking up a lung, and now Connie was back to bug him. His misery was complete. He stuck his head out from his nice little blanket cave to blink slowly at Conrad, trying to convey in that one movement how much his life really sucked at that moment.

Conrad must have understood, because he crouched down beside him again and smiled reassuringly at him. "I'm going over to Worth's to get you some medicine." Veser stuck his tongue out through his sharp teeth in disgust. Conrad's smile turned to a frown. "Oh suck it up, buttercup." He said teasingly. "It'll make you feel better. And if you swallow down whatever noxious crap Worth makes for you, I'll bring you sushi. Deal?" Veser didn't answer for a moment, but finally a hoarsely-croaked "Ok" gave him the answer he needed. Conrad nodded, then pulled the blankets back over Veser's head. He straightened up, and threw the TV remote on the floor by Veser's head. "You can watch TV if you feel any better." He told the lump on his couch, and headed out the door.

"Have fun at your boyfriend's!" he heard Veser croak after him. Conrad's smile returned. The kid must really be feeling better if he could tease Conrad again. He now felt more encouraged to leave his apartment, and go visit the hack in the back alley.

But he still wasn't happy about it.

*~* Reviews make me happy!


	4. Chapter 4

~*~ Someone play the Rocky theme and open a bottle of champagne cause I feel like celebrating! After two weeks of crappiness and unproductivity, my writer's block is GONE! Thank god, cause it's been bumming the hell out of me. I know I'm supposed to be happy cause its spring in my neck of the world and everybody's celebrating the warmth and junk, but I hate it. Spring means I'm expected to go outside and play, when I'd rather be in my room writing. For the past _three years_ in a row, I've gotten the Spring Blues and just slump and bum everything. It _sucks_!  
But the curse is over, and just in time cause I've got finals and _five_ multi-page papers to write for classes. Who knew being an English Major meant I had to write a lot?  
And I've finally got off my ass and wrote this chapter. _Why_ it took me so long I don't know, because this was fun to write. And I'm rambling. Sorry.  
Musical Muse: Axel Rose, Kurt Cobain, and Keith Richards' mad musical talents.  
Warnings: Swears, ConWorth, the usual.  
Disclaimer: Not Tess, and I hope she gets over her own art-block or whatever soon.

~*~Ocean of Grief Chapter 4~*~

Any trace of good mood had long vanished by the time Conrad got to Worth's door. The journey to the fake doctor's office was never a pleasant one, seeing how Worth seemed to live in the middle of a labyrinth of back alleys lined with hookers and drug dealers. _This _particular night was even less enjoyable, because the rain that had initially given Veser his cold _still _hadn't let up, so that by the time he got to Worth's office, he was cold, wet, and thoroughly pissed off.

Perhaps it was a good thing that Worth was in a terrible mood too. This way he didn't have to feel that stupid twinge of guilt that he felt when he was a dick to him.

"Wha took yer faggy ass so long?" Worth snarled when he finally tumbled though the door. Conrad didn't answer immediately, as he was momentarily struck by the amount of smoke in the office. Unless something had lit on fire in a back room, Worth probably had been smoking from the moment he woke up.

"Jesus Worth are you testing your smoke alarm?" Conrad waved his hand in front of his face to clear the air, and –stupidly, accidentally –took a breath, then proceeded to hack his lungs out. He may not need air, but damnit he'd been breathing all his life; it was hard to break a habit. And it tickled his lungs.

Worth laughed at him, that horribly raspy laugh that ended with a little cough of his own. Conrad _would _be worried about how bad that laugh sounded…_if_ Worth wasn't such an ass who apparently didn't even give a shit about his own health.

"Ya don't like it don't breathe it." Worth shot back once he caught his breath. Conrad rolled his eyes at the predictability of the answer and waited while Worth hauled his ass up from behind his desk. He stumbled over to his counter and almost collapsed onto the surface. Conrad raised an eyebrow and wondered _just_ what kind of smoke this actually was. Worth seemed _just_ a little bit more sloppy than usual.

Sloppy and possibly high or not, as Worth began pulling stuff from cabinets with a determined look on his face, Conrad was forced to acknowledge that Worth actually knew what he was doing. Worth had talent, even if it never showed underneath the grit and grime. And that, more than Worth's disgusting habits and asshole attitude, was what pissed him off the most about this human. Someone like _him_ shouldn't be so damn good at _anything_ productive.

He was doing something on the counter, hiding it with his white furry shoulders. Conrad wanted to ask just what he was mixing up, and if it was poisonous in any way, but wisely kept quiet. Worth seemed to hate having anyone around while he was working. The back room where he treated his patients was sacred ground, only for him and the wounded to tread. So far, Conrad had never had the distinct pleasure of being the one fixed up back there, and had never even witnessed him working on Hanna's frequent injuries. But occasionally someone would come in with a gunshot or a stab wound and Worth would fix them up then and there, even if Conrad was standing right there silently watching. Worth didn't seem to mind that, but snapped something terrible if Conrad got too close or said anything. And Worth called his compulsions unusual.

And goddamnit, they only way he knew this is that he had ended up spending _way_ too much time in Worth's presence and picked up on his habits. The man had an annoying way of starting arguments and making it hard for Conrad to just walk away, so he ended up enduring Worth's torments and innuendos. He must be turning into some sort of masochist, because it ended up being sort of fun. And that was a bad thing, because…because it just _was!_ And he didn't have time for the usual antics today. He needed to fix Veser up, because having a mopey seal-kid bumming on his couch didn't sit well with him.

"Oi, failpire!" The terrible nickname caught his attention, and he realized that Worth was now propped up on the counter, hiding something in his clenched hand and that terrible smirk back on his face. His eyes glittered from the deepest black circles surrounding his eyes with a horrible amusement. "Don't tell me yer getting loopy from this smoke too. Didn't know vampires could get high this way."

Conrad scoffed at the notion, but was secretly wondering the same thing. Worth had asked several unusual questions on previous visits, like if he ever tasted drugs or last meals in the blood he drank, which made Conrad question the source of some of his dinners. He _could_ chalk it up to Worth asking just to make him uncomfortable, but somehow he thought it was the scientific side of the doctor that was willing to absorb any new idea. A ridiculous notion, yes, but after several months –had it really been that long? –of associating with the doctor, he was fairly certain he was right. Worth was a tough nut to crack, but he was starting to understand. There was more to the doctor than a hideous coat and a bad attitude, just like there was more to Hanna than a spastic ginger and more to Veser than a teenage punk who currently had a cold.

Reminded of his mission, Conrad glared right back at the doctor. "I'm perfectly fine!" he snapped, and was answered with a snort that spoke of pure bullshit. Conrad was actually inclined to agree. His head hurt, and it wasn't his usual Worth-Veser combined headache. Shaking off his problems, he gestured at Worth's closed hand. "What've you got?" he demanded.

Worth huffed at the change in topic, then extended his needle-thin arm and opened his hand to reveal a small bag of herbs.

"That better not be pot!" Conrad yelped. So it wasn't dangerous he needed to worry about, it was illegality. He pointed an accusing finger at the offending package. "I'm not paying for _pot!_"

"Watsa matter Connie, think you can get a better price somewhere else?" Worth was laughing at him, _again_, that mocking hack that usually landed him with a fist in his face. Conrad restrained himself, praying with all his might that this was some sort of joke. It was still so hard to tell sometimes when dealing with Worth.

Worth's grin held, as did the extended bag of mysterious substances. "S'not pot, ya poof, don't git yer undies in a bunch." The accompanying leer directed at him had Conrad shifting nervously. "Traditional herbal remedy, _all natural_-" Conrad _hated _that emphasis, even as he felt relief "-perfectly legal shit that'll knock Ves on his ass and he'll come up swingin real quick. Ya just whip it up like that green tea shit. The steam will clear up his lungs, the tea will up the healing…" Worth dropped the little bundle into Conrad's eager hands and shrugged. "Ya know, nothin much." He said carelessly, as if he prescribed possibly archaic herbal remedies every day.

Conrad couldn't stop staring in amazement. Worth just had this stuff lying around in his office, stuff that could put pharmacists out of business, and it wasn't even that big of a deal to him. He was struck dumb by the notion of Worth's indifference, and quietly couldn't help but wonder just what would have occurred if Worth had really stuck to actual medicine.

"Um…thanks, I guess." Conrad tried for the same level of casualness that Worth achieved, but he knew he failed. If this stuff actually worked, it would get Veser off his couch and out of his little funk all the faster. "How much?" he asked, ready to pay _anything_ for this miracle substance.

Worth shrugged again, still perched on his counter and digging in an inner pocket, probably for more smokes. "Yeh can pay me back later." He muttered, not looking up from the packet of cigarettes he acquired from the depths of his coat. "Just, yanow, get that kid back on his feet." This was spoken so softly that Conrad was certain he wouldn't have heard it if he wasn't a vampire.

Now thoroughly unnerved, Conrad offered another "thanks" as he went out the door. Worth may not care about society, but apparently he cared about making a sick kid better.

Short chapter is short, I know. And sorry for making you put up with my musings about Worth's character, it's just me reading waaay too much into stuff. I can't help it. Seriously, these three guys are my favorite characters, no lie.  
Please leave reviews. I need something to keep my spirits up. Finals are gonna be a bitch, so I might not update soon


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